Page 11 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

I clamp my hand over his mouth while she talks. “You’re meeting her tonight, right?”

Glaring at Finn, I warn him to keep his mouth shut while I lift my wrist to check the time. “In about twenty minutes.”

“Great. I want you to tell her you don’t want an annulment.”

“What?”

“Tell her you want to make this marriage work.”

“You’re joking.” She has to be. There’s absolutely no reason for her to be serious. Unless...did Beck put her up to this? Does she feel bad about running out that morning and maybe wonders if there’s something real to be had here? I always expected that she would show up at some point. Took her time about it though so hard to believe that she wants something other than an annulment from me now. Should be happy about that. After Lena, I can’t believe that I’d consider letting another woman in, but marriage was a big deal to my parents. My dad would tell me to find a way to make it work. And with Beck...there was something real. It sure felt more than just physical.

“I’m not, and I’m prepared to make it worth your while, Mr. Casey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross the room to pick up my wallet and keys. Then back to the bed where I almost pocket a condom, but the expiration date is some time last year, and I have no intentions of listening to Beck’s apparently crazy friend. Hollander prowls in and curls up in the middle of the bed, and I pull on the floor to ceiling, wall to wall blinds, shutting out the dimming view of the valley and all those damn oranges.

“I hear you have a cash flow problem. I want to help you with that.”

“Hand the phone to Jack right now,” I grumble. “Whatever he’s told you...he had no business. Put my ass of a brother on the phone.”

“Calm down,” she says. “Jack didn’t tell me your financial situation. All he did was put me in contact with you. I’m a business woman, Mr. Casey. I prefer to find and research my own facts. You’re Dalton Casey’s eldest son. You own Casey Records, or what’s left of it. The building is shut down and quite frankly worse for wear. You haven’t produced any music since your father passed. And you’re working several jobs, correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Stay married to my friend for three months, and I will pay down the note on the building and provide you with half a million dollars.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Not crazy. I just have enough money that I can invest as I see fit.”

“Invest? We’re talking about marriage. Three months of it, when clearly your friend isn’t interested. And quite frankly the last thing I need is women meddling with my life. I have no idea how this benefits you. Or either of us.”

“My friend—” she sighs “—doesn’t understand relationships. As far as she’s concerned emotions are an evolutionary failure. But she married you.”

“We were drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. Only that it did happen. Now, will you choose to profit from the situation or not?”

“I...”

“You should do it,” Finn says.

Spinning around to find him still by the door, I glare at him. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“Not exactly. Jack’s friend talks loudly. I can hear everything she’s saying.” He holds his palms out in front of him and raises one shoulder. “You should consider her offer. You married this girl, after all. Whoever she is.”

“Beck. And it was a mistake. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“You’re going to see her tonight,” he reminds me.

“To end the mistake,” I clarify. That shouldn’t be hard for him to understand.

“Even though neither of you have tried to end the marriage in the last two years, so it mustn’t have been that big a mistake.”

I tried to find her after she bolted from my hotel room. Looked her up when I couldn’t. But since I couldn’t remember her maiden name, the girl was a ghost. “It was plenty big,” I snap. “Don’t try to counsel me.”

“Fine.” He gives me one of his patented I don’t have the patience for your bullshit scowls. “But you should still do it.”

“Why?”

---